


An Unfortunate ACT

by Karyukai



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: AU, Asylum, Doctors, Final Fantasy AU, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, crisis core au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-15 04:05:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1290664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karyukai/pseuds/Karyukai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After years of hunting and a lifetime of research, Genesis finally found the Goddess...but lost sight of the world. Having felt his undying devotion turned away his mind has become unhinged, left for his colleagues - now his own doctors - to deal with. /Doctor AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Puzzle Pieces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tobiroth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tobiroth/gifts).



> I hesitantly call this an OT5 as I'm not totally sure how things will come together yet. It may not be as complete and wholesome as usual OT5 stories, given Genesis's condition, and I will do my best to handle this topic with great care. Mental illness is a sensitive topic with me anyway, so I promise to avoid stigmas and stereotypes. Please be prepared for characters from other FF universes to make an appearance! Psychosis will be the main theme. Trigger warning for emotional portrayals of mental illness.

My friends, the fates are cruel.

There are no dreams, no honour remains.

The arrow has left the bow of the Goddess.

The tip pierced my supple heart, the gift I offered.

There is no pain blacker than to have seen her turn away.

One day you, too, will feel the ‘joy’ of her look; eyes both light and darkness.

Never shall I return.

 

* * *

 

They had let him write it down. It was conceived within his third night of his being here—in this room. The missing act of LOVELESS. Genesis knew it now. The square bit of paper was tacked to the wall, close to the floor so he could sit by it; think about it, dwell, chew and weep over the bitterness of each word. His heart was more than broken, it was a ‘tangled smear at the feet of his Nephilim’.

 

* * *

 

 

Some part of Sephiroth had hoped that Genesis would never be found. Behind the clinical facade, he was tormented by his old friend’s state. The man had been too much of a genius. The line between brilliance and insanity had ripped like the last thread of a spider’s web. Was it always inevitable? Sephiroth stared at the photo on his desk; Angeal, himself and Genesis, all smiling and dressed in lab coats.

 

* * *

 

Angeal had seen it coming. He had studied in detail the lives of great professors Hojo and Hollander—how they had descended into madness—but did anyone heed his warnings? From the moment Angeal had first seen authorities drag Genesis into custody, an incurable sting racked his heart. He could not, would not visit Genesis. It was too much. It shamed Genesis’s worth—Angeal knew that—but he continued to stay away. The latest report on patient Romeo One was open on his desk. The closest he could get to Genesis Rhapsodos without being consumed by grief.

 

* * *

 

Zack watched it all. One could even say he had known this would happen—even more so than Angeal. He could have prevented everything, maybe. Angeal would not stare right through him, Sephiroth would not cry at night, and Genesis would not be locked in a padded cell. If he had only done what was right; known the difference between honour and what secrets should not be kept… That bright smile on Genesis’s face, still there, always for Zack, would not make him feel sick.

 

“Thank you,” Genesis would say. “Thank you. I know now.”

 

And Zack would smile back because he had to. He could not help it.

 

* * *

 

Now was the time to fulfil his dream of becoming a doctor at one of the ShinRa asylums (sight location #5). Cloud had studied hard, passed though his advanced studies with optimal results. At twenty-two years old, he felt ready to face the world. Well, readier. He had heard of the top priority patient Romeo One. Rereading the address in his notebook, the ink smudged by the torrential downpour, Cloud was relieved to see this was the right place. His new home, Nibelheim mansion, with the porch occupied by three waiting figures.

 

 


	2. Forbidden Corridor

The ShinRa Psychiatric Health Company had five asylums, three in the East (Kalm, Junon, and one near the chocobo ranches), one in the North (Knowlespole), and one in the West: Nibelheim.

Their influence in medical innovation was insurmountable, paramount, unrivalled. They dominated the industry, for every facet of business was marketable after all, and who better to trust than ShinRa? Resources, money, time, technology—they had it all and they led the psychiatric world with a firm voice.

And now Cloud, _Doctor_ Cloud Strife, was joining that chorus. He trudged up the muddy path to the figures in the doorway, shielding his hair with an already sopping newspaper. Him, him, _him!_ This was happening to him! Cloud felt like he might float off the ground at any minute and glide up the rest of the path.

Jogging up the stone steps and ducking under the main porch, Cloud managed to stay professional for all of five seconds.

“Hello!” he greeted. “Hi! Wow, what weather, right? It’s so great to meet you. How are you?” Grinning like a fool, Cloud tucked the soggy newspaper under one arm and set down his suitcase. He held out his freed hand to the tallest of the three, a man with flowing silver hair and a hint of a smile.

“Very well, thank you. My name is Sephiroth,” the man said, enveloping Cloud’s hand in both of his. Sephiroth gave a firm shake; his long fingers cool to the touch. His sincerity and steady gaze sent nervous butterflies tumbling inside Cloud’s chest because, oh yes, he knew who _Sephiroth_ was.

Doctor Sephiroth Crescent: the pride of ShinRa PHC. He'd been raised and trained in psychotherapy and neuroscience to the point his credentials could fill an envelope. Midgar University sang his praises from the high heavens as their exemplar graduate, a man who was now one of their consultants and guest lecturers. For Cloud, Sephiroth had always been some unknowable, hailed genius, and now he was shaking Cloud's hand.

With an embarrassed nod, he pulled away.

Turning to the broadest of the three, Cloud noticed the surprise in this man’s eyes. His bearded jaw hung open a little and he seemed unsure of what to say. Perhaps Cloud was being too presumptuous? Damn it, he should have waited for them to make the formal introductions instead of launching in— _hey how are you? Wow, shake my hand, you're all so famous I could die._

Before Cloud could pull his hand back, however, the third doctor thrust forward and seized it in a strong grip.

“It’s a pleasure! I’m Zack, and this is Angeal.” Zack’s grin was instantly infectious and it chased away the embarrassment flooding Cloud’s cheeks. He returned the gruff handshake, smiling again.

“Give me a _chance_ ,” cried Angeal, folding his broad arms. (Actually, looking at him, did a man of his profession need such impressive bulk? Cloud went red again, embarrassed for noticing.) Angeal's brow furrowed into a smile.

Doctor Angeal Hewley: it was hotly contested whether he was a better psychotherapist than his prestigious colleague Sephiroth. His qualifications could also make out half the alphabet and his understanding of mental health was said to be so thorough, he could give you a speech on any topic straight off the bat.

“Let’s get into the warm, you must be freezing,” Angeal said, widening his arm to welcome Cloud through the front door.

Cloud pushed his wet hair out of his face, realising he appeared like one oversized mess of person, and perhaps came across as too young and inexperienced. Well shit. He followed Sephiroth inside, trying to think up something witty to say. Everyone loved witty comments, especially from newbies…right?

Entering the main hall, however, Cloud gasped and slowed to a stop. So this was the Nibelheim mansion. Wow. He’d seen it from the outside all his life, peering through the metal bars of the front gate. As a child he’d been skinny enough to slip between them but he’d never dared to actually trespass, and now… It looked nothing like he’d imagined.

Cream wallpaper decorated the walls and large, arched windows looked out onto the garden, currently disguised by a haze of heavy rain. A grand staircase curved up the right wall and led onto a balcony, where more arching windows let in the drab daylight. Doors—so many doors to open and explore. He tipped his head back to appreciate the hanging electric chandelier. For such a sprawling hall, it had a hospitable warmth to it.

Zack slapped a hand on Cloud’s back and he jumped.

“You know, it never gets old,” Zack said, giving the hall an appreciative once-over as well. “You’re from around these parts, aren’t ya?”

“That’s right. I grew up in the town.” Cloud struggled to stop himself from launching into a jittery, blabbering ramble about how he’d always wanted to be a doctor but it wasn’t until he’d started studying that he realised Nibelheim Asylum was calling him back.

“Well, welcome to the mansion! It’s a lot nicer on the inside, right?” Zack turned to Sephiroth and clapped his hands, then opened them wide as if holding the wonders of Nibelheim in his arms. “Can I show him around? Please, let me do it.” He was so matter-of-fact, so casually confident that Cloud hoped this meant they were friends already.

Doctor Zack Fair: he'd graduated from a doctorate degree two years ago and he'd been Angeal's protegee since the moment he'd applied for a scholarship. He was renowned as one of the youngest doctors working at a ShinRa asylum and praised as an example of achieving great things when coming from small means. His youngness was a set-back, however, and his current presence at conferences was always acknowledged with a pinch of skeptical salt.

Angeal cut in, “I think you’re forgetting someone.” He folded his arms, a proper smile on his face at last. It crinkled the corners of his eyes and softened the stern set of his jaw.

“Director Lazard will want a proper introduction,” said Sephiroth. “You can show Cloud around afterwards.”

Zack hunched up a little and rubbed the back of his neck. Cloud noted it down as a sign of embarrassment.

“Ah, of course. Don’t let Lazard keep him down there too long.” He pushed Cloud forward and tugged the ruined newspaper from the crook of Cloud’s elbow. “I’ll get rid of this for ya.”

“And I’ll take this to your room,” said Angeal, slipping Cloud’s suitcase from his hand. “Don’t worry, Doctor Strife. He’s very friendly.”

“Oh, no, please. There’s no need to call me that, Cloud is fine.” He went red in the face. He couldn't ask _these guys_ to call him 'Doctor Strife'! But pride and excitement coursed through him. Doctor Strife. Doctor Fucking-Strife. 

Grinning like a loon again, Cloud pinched himself a few times as Sephiroth beckoned for him to follow.

“Don't worry if my bag rattles and squeaks,” Cloud said to Angeal as he passed. "It just means the mice are hungry."

That surprised look again, but this time Dr Hewley chuckled. “Right. I'll try not to drop it then.”

Before he turned away, Cloud didn't miss the way Zack looked his mentor with a secretive smile on his face, his eyes soft and reserved. A shiver ran through him at seeing such a thing. Cloud would be living here and learning all about them, and that kind of terrified him. Somehow, he'd have to fit into their team, but he doubted he'd ever get close enough to learn the details behind that secretive glimmer in Zack's eyes.

Sephiroth led the way down to the basement. Cloud shook his head, one step at a time. Who was this Director Lazard, exactly? He’d corresponded with Cloud a few times in writing to confirm his placement at Nibelheim Asylum but he’d never actually met the man. A blast of cold, dry air greeted them as Sephiroth pushed open the basement door.

The lamplight gleamed across his hair and illuminated the bookcase at the bottom of the stairs. Once they’d descended, Cloud saw more books spreading down the hallway and he read as many of the titles across their spines as possible: _Mako Medicines: a compendium_ , _ShinRa’s Core Subjects: volume 8_ , _Hojo’s Handbook on Psychology_ , _Mind over Mako._

He stood taller, pleased to recognise the first three titles from his studies (especially _Hojo’s Handbook_ ). There was so much to learn and discover, all available for him to study whenever he wanted! Cloud had felt the same sense of awe when he’d first seen the library at Midgar U, but this time he promised himself to act upon his desire to learn—he would read everything he possibly could.

Sephiroth lead Cloud down the right hand corridor and knocked on the oak door at the end.

“Come in!” called a friendly voice from the other side.

They entered a hexagonal room. More books lined every inch of wall space and a vast filing cabinet stood next to the door. In the centre of the room, lit up by yellow lamps, stood a desk that was scattered with papers and sat behind it was a very sophisticated looking man. He beamed at Cloud over the rim of his glasses; interlocking his white-gloved fingers on top of all the paperwork.

“You must be Cloud, it’s a pleasure to meet you at last.”

“No, please!” Cloud bowed forward as if addressing the president. “Thank you very much for taking me on, Director Lazard.”

The director chuckled. “Don’t thank me yet. Come in, take a seat.” Lazard gestured to the chair opposite him and tugged on the sleeves of his pin-striped suit. “We’ve got a lot to cover. Sephiroth, why don’t you return in, oh say, half an hour?”

Cloud sat down and glanced back at Sephiroth. The tall man nodded and said, “I’ll bring you some tea,” then shut the door.

“Cloud, it really is a pleasure to have you with us,” said Lazard, reaching over the desk to shake Cloud’s hand. “We’ve had a very trying time this year, as I’m sure you’ve been made aware.”

“Not it detail,” Cloud admitted, hoping he was about to get the full story, “but I read the news when word got out.”

Heaving with a troubled sigh, Lazard picked up a pen to fiddle with. “Yes, I suspect you did. Doctor Rhaphsodos was quite a remarkable man; a linguist, biochemist, neurologist, musician... He made quite a list. Losing him hit all of us...very hard.”

Cloud felt the weight of these words sink into his chest. He realised he had to fill someone else’s shoes; someone who had clearly been important to his colleagues. The frown on Lazard’s face piqued his curiosity though. It spoke of a sombre regret too personal to express in full.

“I’m sorry,” said Cloud. Did he dare ask? Did he? He took a very deep breath. “May I ask what happened?”

Lazard twirled the pen in his fingers, assessing Cloud. He must have expected Cloud to ask, if his calm demeanor was any indication. “Yes, if you’re unsure, you should be made aware of what _really_ happened here. I must ask you to avoid bringing it up around Angeal, however. It’s still a sore subject with him in particular.”

Cloud nodded, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants. “Of course, yes.” Rainwater had soaked into the hems of his pants and more of it dripped down the back of his neck. It started to feel humid and he slipped off his coat.

“You can hang it on the stand over there,” said Lazard, pointing to the fancy hat-and-coat stand next to the filing cabinet. He did so, and Lazard launched into Genesis’s story as Cloud sat down again. Perhaps he wanted to get it out the way as quickly as possible.

“Genesis was not exactly religious, he didn’t follow any creed or practice any ritual, but he did believe in a higher power. He believed in the Goddess. His favourite rendition of her was from the play LOVELESS, do you know it? Well, he took to researching the play’s final stanza.”

“The missing one?”

“Correct. His research into lore surrounding the Goddess is world-renowned, more so than his innovations in biochemistry, but it _was_ secondary to his work here at Nibelheim. The patients and their needs took priority. At some point, that started to change. We think his decline may have started six years ago after the Hojo and Hollander incident. Do you know about that one?”

Cloud nodded, lying. He _knew_ about it, sure, but he didn’t know anything substantial. Sensationalism never really gripped him like it did his mother, and that hoo-haa had happened way before he’d taken an interest in the ShinRa Psychiatric Health Company. But he nodded, vowing he’d look it up later as soon as he was alone. He should have researched the 'Hojo and Hollander Tragedy' beforehand, damn it.

The director nodded in approval, and Cloud squirmed. "We take the Hippocratic Oath very seriously here, especially after what came to light about Hojo and Hollander. It was a disgrace, but I still wish we could have helped them in the end. I don't like to think of anyone being hunted and shot down."

Unable to contribute, Cloud gave his best serious frown and nodded.

"Anyway, their research into gene therapy and cultivation was eventually given back to us as the results of their studies proved useful. Genesis was the man we appointed to go through all of their findings. He was meant to find a way of incorporating their research ethically and practically. Instead, he became consumed with the idea that Hojo and Hollander's research would lead him to a higher level of sentience."

There was a knock on the door and Lazard seemed to go pale. He stopped talking and sat straight—clenching the pen in both hands. The man smiled but held his head too high. Cloud noted it down as a sign of anxiety.

Sephiroth set a tea-tray on the table, his eyes lingering on Cloud's face, then left as Lazard thanked him.

Perhaps it was the white gloves, but Lazard had a delicate manner about him as he poured the honey-brown liquid into a cup and handed it to Cloud.

"Where was I?" he murmured, not meeting Cloud's gaze. A part of him already regretted asking about Genesis. "Ah yes, the research. Hojo and Hollander believed that there was a way to make cells rejuvenate themselves, brain cells in particular. They called it the Gift of the Goddess; a metaphorical title that Genesis eventually took literally. Their rejuvenation findings proved to combat dementia, heighten memory and learning capabilities, and even lessen the symptoms and problems of OCD. What they wanted was full body rejuvenation, however. Immortality achieved by the body replacing its own cells as they die.

"Genesis became obsessed with continuing their research. He never harmed our patients, I'd like to add. He just... He was misguided. He dove deeper into mako medicines and even its very source—the life stream. He contaminated himself, in the end. He wouldn't test his ultimate findings on the patients, so he tested it on himself. The results were severe psychosis."

Lazard's glasses steamed as he took a drink of tea and Cloud realised he was done talking.

"Is it true he found a way to touch the life stream?"

Lazard shrugged. "We don't know."

Definitely done talking about Genesis. But what, ultimately, had Genesis wanted through all that work? By Lazard's account, immortality didn't seem like the answer.

"Thank you for telling me."

"We can't have you wondering about something as sensitive as this, it always leads to unnecessary troubles. If anyone asks you about Genesis you are not to disclose any of these details. The official story is that he had a mental breakdown due to stress."

Cloud nodded, clutching his tea cup. It felt ridiculously small in his hands. Unnecessary troubles? Like, accidentally upsetting someone by asking the wrong questions? Or by asking questions at all?

Lazard concluded the meeting by giving Cloud his contract and room key, and explaining his duties as a member of staff. Sephiroth was the main man in charge upstairs and Cloud ultimately deferred to him, but for a while he would shadow each of them as and when they were available.

Briefing complete, Lazard led Cloud back to the bottom of the basement stairs.

"One more thing, Cloud."

Cloud paused on the bottom step and looked back at him.

"You are not permitted down this left hand corridor." Lazard pointed in the opposite direction to his office. "You may come down to my office whenever you like, provided I'm there, but you are not authorized down this left passage."

Cloud noticed he didn't add 'unless in the presence of...' or, 'until you have been her for X amount of time...' or even, 'once you're ready.'

"Understood," Cloud responded.

As he climbed the stairs to the main hall again, Cloud couldn't stop himself from wondering if he'd ever be able to sneak down that forbidden passage one day. Forbidden always did invite temptation. Pushing open the door at the top of the stairs, however, back into the pleasant and large hall, he shook his head. Of course he wasn't going to sneak around.

He was a the respectable Doctor Cloud Strife now.

"Doctor Strife!" he giggled to himself in a sing-song voice. "I am so lame."

"I don't know if I'd call it lame," said Sephiroth.

Cloud stiffened.


	3. Quirks

He should have taken the time to do something useful, like respond to lecture requests or prepare his next session with one of the patients. Instead, Sephiroth just waited, too anxious to focus on work.

Was Cloud as smart as he claimed? Was he kind and compassionate but hard shaken, as was necessary? Would he be understanding of their dysfunctional work force? Would he like Sephiroth and the other two? What if he hated how secluded the mansion was from the rest of society? What if he ended up feeling left out and overwhelmed by Genesis’s shadow?

Sephiroth stayed hidden in the kitchen after delivering down the tea things to Cloud and Lazard, leaning against the counter like he no longer had the energy left to stand. The starch white tiles and disinfected surfaces calmed him: clean. And the sound of the tap dipping into the metal sink: numbing.

His irritation with the situation didn’t abate until he tugged his mass of hair out of his face and into a ponytail: efficient. No longer claustrophobic. Deep breath in, slow breath out.

Things might not be so catastrophically awkward as he’d feared; his worry was probably all for nothing. Sephiroth clenched his hands together. He’d been dreading Cloud’s arrival but...he didn’t seem too bad. Such an eager smile and a fresh bounce in his step. Sephiroth smiled to himself, feeling a flutter of hope in his chest. Maybe he’d fit in just fine.

After twenty minutes, Sephiroth dragged himself out into the hall and paced the large open space. He gazed up at the balcony and door leading to the right wing. What were Angeal and Zack up to? They must have resumed the day’s tasks. Work. They were working. But Sephiroth frowned and gripped the front of his lab coat, tugging it taught against his shoulders.

Angeal and Zack. It didn’t matter if Sephiroth was or was not the best psychotherapist in all three continents, because those two did not did not open up to him. Did they confide in each other? He pulled his white coat tighter around him. If only he could catch Angeal alone at the right moment...

The basement door opened and a cheerful, melodic voice said, “Doctor Strife! I’m so lame.”

Another wave of optimism fluttered inside Sephiroth’s chest. Lame? No. Adorably enamoured with life and its prospects as a young and talented postgraduate? Absolutely. “I don’t know if I’d call it lame,” Sephiroth said.

Cloud froze and grappled with the basement door handle, as if contemplating on going back down the stairs and slamming it shut. His face flushed deep red and Sephiroth grinned. It looked like Cloud was the kind of person who blushed easily, just like Angeal. That man hated to be caught unawares and flattery still baffled him. Angeal just couldn’t take a hint...

“Just trying it out,” Cloud said with a nervous laugh. He shut the door and they met in the middle of the hall.

“Of course, it’s a requirement,” Seph replied. The remark brightened Cloud’s eyes. “When Zack first graduated he used to sweep into our rooms or the office and announce, ‘Never fear, Doctor Fair is here!’”

“Really?”

“Really. And I used to doodle a pretend signature of ‘Doctor Crescent’ whenever I was on the phone, or mulling over a sensitive treatment plan.”

Cloud laughed and beamed at him, the colour in his cheeks reduced to a less embarrassed glow. “Good to know,” he said.

Sephiroth gestured to the closed double doors on the right, not far from the staircase. “Let’s step into the library, Doctor Strife.” He slid the doors open and heard Cloud mutter a few words of awe. Sephiroth stood taller, proud of their book collection, and led the way to the green fettered couches by the fireplace. He wasn’t so proud of those.

The couch creaked as Sephiroth sat down and stretched out one of his long legs beneath the coffee table. Cloud took the couch opposite, draping his coat across his knees. The lad sat right on the edge, hands folded in his lap, and leant forward as if hanging off of Sephiroth’s every word. Still very nervous, by the looks of it, which made his doubts whisper in the back of his mind again.

Sephiroth shook his head and pulled his coat taught against his shoulders. “I’m sure Lazard told you to report to me.”

Cloud nodded.

“That’s good. I’m partly responsible for keeping track of all our records, including medical supplies and authorising treatment plans. If you have any suggestions for treatments, you must run them by me first. The other two are perfectly capable of answering any questions you may have, or showing you how to handle our different patients. Reporting to me just means I have the final say and I monitor everyone’s performance.”

Cloud’s eyes widened a fraction with panic, but vanished as he gave a firm nod. “Understood. How many patients do you have?”

“We have six live-in patients who need constant monitoring as they are too much for carers to handle; the patients are a danger to themselves. After every therapy session you have with our live-in patients, you must write up an immediate report and drop it off with me as soon as possible. Patient confidentiality is paramount, but it works slightly differently for those who live here full time.

“We are a very small team and it’s necessary for each of us to understand our patients. Discussion is a vital part of that understanding as each patient is different and, obviously, doesn’t fit into a neat little check box. So, if you ever have a session with our live-in patients, you are permitted to confide in Zack, Angeal, or myself about the details and you may ask to see previous files. We do not, however, disclose patient details with the nurses who assist us during the week. They know basic symptoms and medication, but you must not tell them anything a patient has expressed in confidence unless I say otherwise.”

Mid-way through Sephiroth’s tangent, Cloud had reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a notebook with soggy edges. He’d peeled it open and now took notes in hasty, slurred handwriting. Sephiroth dreaded the handwritten reports that would come from him in the near future.

Finishing his sentence and jabbing the page to punctuate the end, Cloud’s head shot up. His wide, eager eyes stared at Sephiroth without flinching—open, honest, attentive—and drew him in like noticing a clear night for the first time in years. Refreshing. He noticed how Cloud’s drying mop of hair framed the rest of his face. Handsome.

Clearing his throat and feeling a chill, Sephiroth pulled his hair loose from its ponytail and let it cascade over his shoulders again.

“We have a number of patients who only come to us for psychotherapy and go home again afterwards. Their portfolios are yours and yours alone, you must not share them with me unless the patient is breaking the law or you suspect they are dangerous, either to themselves or to other people. We’ll allocate you a filing draw to store your reports in.”

“What did you plan on me doing to start with?” Cloud asked, hand scribbling as he spoke, eyes barely glancing at the page.

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow, impressed with his ability to jump ahead in conversation but keep track of the information he was writing down, even if it did look like chicken scratches.

“You’ll shadow Zack, to start with. He handles most of our external patients. You’ll get a feel for psychotherapy in action and, with warning, there are a few patients who will probably consent to having a second person in the room. He’ll instruct you on how to act during these sessions.”

Cloud bounced a little in his seat, grinning. “Okay, cool. Good. Yeah. And the live-in patients? I understand it’s a lot more sensitive to introduce a new doctor to them, but will I have any future role in that regard?”

Sephiroth had spent weeks deliberating over how to handle that exact question. In the end, he’d decided they’d take the same route they’d used with Zack.

“You will, yes, but slowly. Each of our live-in patients suffer from varying levels and manifestations of psychosis. It’s...not easy to deal with. One of our patients is only comfortable around Zack, but all of our patients trust and depend on Angeal—most of the time, anyway.”

The young man gave an appropriate, sombre nod. Gaia, Cloud had such gripping blue eyes. Sephiroth hoped this job wouldn’t wear him down.

Glancing at the mantle-clock, he saw it was two in the afternoon.

“Come on, I’ll show you to your room. I’m sure you’d like an hour to settle and rest. Unless you have any more questions?”

Cloud hesitated and tapped his notebook. “A few, but they’re not urgent. I’m sure they’ll be addressed as we go along. Thank you.” Cloud got to his feet, coat in his arms, notebook held open with his thumb and then tucked his pen into his shirt pocket. As Sephiroth led the way out the library, Cloud beamed at him. He felt himself smiling back.

They passed up the stairs and entered the right wing where the cream decor continued. This was the only section of the mansion to have carpet. There were four oak panel doors.

“At the far end is the bathroom,” said Sephiroth, pointing. “Behind this door is a closet. Over here is mine and Zack’s room, and you will share this one with Angeal.” He knocked on the door closest to the bathroom, feeling a jolt of regret that he wasn’t the one sharing a room with Angeal instead. Not that he hated sharing with Zack, he just... He just imagined nights where Angeal might open up to him if they both lay awake in the small hours of the morning together.

The door swung open.

“Hello! And welcome to your new dormitory,” greeted Zack. “Thought you left behind the days of college roomies? Guess again, buddy.”

Cloud laughed, rocking back and forth.

“What are you doing in there?” asked Sephiroth, eyes narrowing.

“Angeal asked me to change the bed sheets for Cloud—he had to get back to work.”

Sephiroth bit down on a sharp retort. Of course the bed sheets should be aired and changed for a new arrival. There was nothing suspicious about that. Glancing past his shoulder he saw fresh checkered sheets and a crisp pillow case. But Sephiroth couldn’t help staring at Zack’s lips and wondering if they were always so flushed with colour.

Zack coughed, dropped a hand on Cloud’s shoulder and dragged him into the room. He marched Cloud over to the far end, closest to the circular window.

“This here is your bed. Your suitcase is under the window, there’s some hangers in the closet and...Angeal snores like a landslide. Have fun with that.”

“Oh no, really?” Cloud looked mortified.

Zack gave him a supportive pat. “Good luck. If you need anything, just let me know. It’s no problem.”

“Sounds like I might need some earplugs,” Cloud mumbled.

Laughing, Zack looked back at Sephiroth as if seeking silent agreement: _he’s great!_ said Zack’s smile. Sephiroth smiled in return, trying not to feel sad at the empty bedside book shelf that used to hold LOVELESS and other well-thumbed titles.

“Well, you’ve heard enough outta me,” said Zack. “I better let you get settled. Oh, wait! Clean towels!” He ran past Sephiroth and down the hall to the closet.

Watching him dig through the shelves, talking to himself as he went, Sephiroth’s smile deepened, happy to see him. He realised he would miss Zack if he did swap rooms with Angeal.

Turning to look in on Cloud again, he saw the young man dithering on the spot.

“I’ll leave you to it,” said Sephiroth, gently. “Spread out, unpack for an hour. I’ll send Angeal along. I’ll ask him to introduce you to a patient I have in mind.”

Cloud straightened like a spring green shoot. “You will? Thank you! Is there anything I can read beforehand?"

“Don’t worry about all that,” Sephiroth chuckled, pleased he’d shown initiative to ask all the same. “Angeal will tell you what you need to know. He’ll give you all the appropriate files afterwards.”

At that moment, Zack pushed past with two fresh towels between his hands. “Scuze me, coming though! So Cloud, if you’re from Nibelheim, do you have family nearby?”

Sephiroth watched him set the towels on the end of Cloud’s bed, thinking how approachable and charming Zack was for a man in a long white coat. He sighed, wishing he could be so extroverted, so causal and comforting just by opening his mouth. He could do it with patients, that was easy, but with his colleagues...

He left to find Angeal, feeling a chill as he crossed the balcony to the left wing. He accounted it to the rain still hammering against the tall glass windows.

 


End file.
